


The Library.

by PlushRumps



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, F/F, moirail whatnots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 14:16:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1229521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlushRumps/pseuds/PlushRumps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'The two of you settle down on the couch together with cookies, milk and a movie, your arm over her shoulder as she snuggles up against you. You could live like this.'</p><p>A Feferi/Vriska moirail-y drabble with a side of angst. The usual, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Library.

She calls you up and you know that there's something wrong, her breathing erratic and hiccuped sobs interrupting her words. You ask her what's wrong but she can't respond to your question, changing and avoiding the topic in deliberate and rapid fashion.

You know something is wrong and it breaks your heart, her figure shaking in the corner with an almost white knuckled grip on the phone, cerulean tears pouring down her cheeks. You keep her on the phone and run to her as fast as you can, checking every possible hiding place and favourite haunts along the way.

You find her in a fort made of books in the far back corner of the library, tears soaking her knees and arms wrapped around her thighs. She's gathered up into your arms and you hold her in your lap, whispering and crooning softly in her ear, making quiet, reassuring clicking noises as you hold her in a desperate attempt to calm her. She moves onto her side and curls up around you but you don't mind, ensuring that the books don't fall on her as she kicks out the wall, fingers carding through her hair.

 

She cries herself to sleep.

* * *

When she wakes up, you don't push the matter. You let her do her thing, let her borrow a pair of your silky pyjamas. The two of you settle down on the couch together with cookies, milk and a movie, your arm over her shoulder as she snuggles up against you.

 

You could live like this. 

* * *

After a while - and a couple soporific drinks- she opens up to you; tells you about her problems.

She's fallen for one Aradia Megido.

Once she's started talking she just doesn't stop, all animated expressions and extravagant hand guestures. The way she talks makes you jealous, rage seething in your usually calm mind. Maybe you're just a tad  _too_ protective, a little too attatched. You never really left much room for error, but you need that more than ever now. 

 

You'll cry yourself to sleep.


End file.
